Kinetic
by Kilameida
Summary: An unknown person smashes through the defenses of Academy City one night, in a burst of unrelenting speed, and grinds to a halt in front of the front step of one Shokuhou Misaki. And in the distance, GREMLIN makes their move...
1. Chapter 1

_An unknown person smashes through the defenses of Academy City one night, in a burst of unrelenting speed, and grinds to a halt in front of the front step of Shokuhou Misaki. What could this person possibly want?  
_

Sup? It's been a while. Anyways, just... just go read and enjoy, will you?

_I kinda feel like I could've done better on this one somehow... my quality is dropping :sad:_

_"Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those whom ask for it."_

_~Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

* * *

_Somewhere in Academy City, 8:15_

This story begins with, as all others do, with a mistake.

But the lone guard sitting behind his comfortable desk knows that he didn't make any.

He has a desk job. A nice, safe job, behind several meters of thick steel walls, where he sits on his desk and watch and made sure less people die than is strictly necessary, strictly necessary being whoever isn't in his team. And during his night shifts, he stares at the camera. But not half asleep, not with that horrible Camera pointed to the back of his neck. It bores into his soul. Sometimes he thinks that the Camera knows exactly what he thinks.

So he made sure that everything runs precisely as it should. Various paraphernalia runs as they should on the far side of the desk, the screen is spotless of any dust, and the cold sweat drops on the cloth on his lap. If even one thing doesn't run precisely as he should, he has a feeling that he should be the one to begin running, because his superiors have various ways to make people disappear, oh yes, myriads of ways, and not all of them have been tested yet and more importantly, _you do not want to be tested on._

So when the radar blips, his eyes shifts towards the screen.

There is a single dot approaching the city perimeter at an alarming speed, and he says alarming, because he blinked once and that dot has already disappeared into the chaos of the city.

He quickly scans all the security cameras, but they show nothing out of the norm. In a cold sweat, he begins to mull things over.

Here, the man is faced with a decision.

He can tell his superiors. Something just breached the city perimeters, sir, yes, it appeared at an insane speed, sir, blinked once and it's gone, sir, yes, it disappears into the city, no, couldn't say for sure sir, could be an equipment malfunction, so sorry to waste your time sir _aiiiieee…_

No, telling his superiors would be a bad thing. Besides, the occasional glitch does happen, and the superiors themselves acknowledge it.

He could stay silent, but if, if, and by the gods he hopes it doesn't, if the shit hits the fan, then Coordinator Shiroinu would have never existed, never heard of him, nope, now be quiet and let me treat you to a drink…

Oh, dear…

He grabbed a sheet of paper and scribbles furiously in it. Now...

Do you spell resignation with an extra e?

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_Academy City, Sunshine 21 _  
Accelerator walks home, a bag of groceries in his hand, grumbling furiously about the unreasonable prices that seem to be the one thing he couldn't redirect.

A gust of wind gently caresses him, rustling his bag and hair slightly.

Oh? What's this?

He casually reaches towards his neck and flicks his little finger nonchalantly, the way a person would flick a mosquito off their neck. There is a small whine, and then a hum. A green light winks gently in the darkness.

Now, let's see which unfortunate little bugger…

But there is nothing. There was something, he is sure of it, but now, it's gone.

Shrugging, he continues to walk home. It's someone else problem, after all. Whatever it is. And it doesn't pay to stick your nose in.

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_Academy City Slums_  
A blonde-haired figure in the alleyways turns abruptly and waves its hands. Something large and white swells for a moment, forming a barrier that blocks the alley and then dissipates in flecks of white foam.

The figure stares. That's odd…

Something was there that shouldn't be there, he was sure of it, but whatever it is, it's no longer there. It resolves itself to shrugging and continues on its merry way.  
But just to be sure…

He scrapes his finger along the wall. A white residue emerges, and coalesces into two beetles, which took flight immediately, and station themselves at the opening and at the top of the alley, respectively. Their efforts are wasted, he knows – but one can't be too careful.

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_Tokiwadai Dorm_

Misaka Mikoto snaps.

"Would you just – "she roars, "STOP - "

This is punctuated by a high-pitched whine followed by a sizzling hiss, and the crackle of fresh sharp burning ozone. The lights begin to blink on and off, on and off –

"Touching – "

There's a scream, although muffled somewhat by pillows, followed by the clang and clatter of things hitting the floor, being knocked about by a whirlwind of limbs –

"My –"

More screams, followed by a suggestion of very fast movement and blue light, as well as flying bodily appendages dancing in excruciating pain –

"FROG COLLECTION!"

The torrent of electricity subsides, and the air thickens again. Misaka huffs in anger and annoyance at the prone figure lying on the bed. She'll likely get into trouble with this, and she may or may not have fried a few brain cells – not that _she_ needs those brain cells, given the things that she thinks about on a minute interval basis –

Something fast flew past her window.

She didn't see it – she couldn't have, because her back was turned. But she senses the sudden emptiness in her electromagnetic field. It's a very peculiar emptiness. It's almost completely straight, and somehow, the field isn't passively reforming.

Curiosity aroused, she opens the window to have a look around, but found nothing. Closing her eyes, she extends her radar field. Looking at the world as a series of blue dots among the black that is her eyelids, she saw her surroundings, but found nothing exclusively out of the ordinary.

Whatever was there has been long gone. She briefly wonders if it was _him_, but she reasons that there is no way he could have moved that fast.

Well, it doesn't seem to involve her, and if there's something she learns, it's that there's no profit to be made in sticking your nose in where it was unwanted…

"Heh… you said… mmmn…zzzz… aroused…"

The mumbled sleeping reply rouses her from her trance. Sighing, she prods the prone, slightly twitching figure with her foot.

"What the heck am I to do with you…"

Oh well.

She closes the window, locks it, and turns off the lights.

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Mugino snaps awake.

Something awfully annoying is cricking in the dark.

She listens to it for a second, fries it, then goes back to sleep.

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Shokuhou Misaki stares at the blue screen, enjoying her cup of tea. Her bag full of remote controls is next to her, but she feels no need to use any of them. Everyone in the vicinity is either sleeping or otherwise playing computer games, the way she is.

Right now, it isn't her turn, but she contemplates her next few moves as she –

Damn. Where did that come from? How can she not have seen that coming?

Setting down her cup, she starts to click the screen furiously. No, nope, oh no you don't, you –

Something downstairs crashes, but she pays it no heed. Probably just some unfortunate person stubbing his leg or possibly breaking an arm, which takes the several-hundred spot on her current priority list, the top currently being winning this god-forsaken game.

Oh, she's not so unkind as to not help him out at all. She'll just do it. Just a bit later. Possibly when everyone else is already downstairs trying to help. Help is invariably like that – you never want to be the first on the crime scene, because it creates some unfortunate implications if you do.

Something else crashes, much nearer this time. There is a sound, like air whistling. Her body tenses. Something - or someone - approaches.

She doesn't know it for sure, and it's just a hunch. But you don't survive in Academy City for this long and not develop a seventh* sense regarding dangers and its various ways of coming on to you. Slowly, cautiously, she stands up –

The door slams open.

A figure stands on her doorway. Its clothes are tattered, smoking remains of blue and red. His pants are torn around the edges, especially near his feet and knees, and his jacket and shirt tore near his elbows. His – yes, it's definitely a he, because no girl could be so flat chested while retaining a respectable amount of muscle – hair is black, but ashen, as if he recently came out from a fire. But what caught her attention the most are his eyes, because despite the ashen glasses he wore, his eyes shone in a sort of manic brightness. And that was it. She can't really describe a color, but if she had to pick, it would have been brown or black, despite knowing that it couldn't be that. No – boy? Yes, it's a boy, because under all that red, raw skin, he seems young – and besides, he's barely taller than she is. No boy should have those eyes, because, because –

It's the same kind of eyes that Dolly had. Completely lonely. And too scared to trust someone, but realizes that it requires _her_ help in particular.

Both figure freeze for a moment, in the same way two predators freeze when regarding each other, in case the other makes a sudden move. They study each other, bodies tensing, twitching, waiting for the first sudden movement to break the impasse.

Then Misaki dives for her bag –

"Alright, that's enough!" shouts the boy in a somewhat hoarse voice, and tired voice. The voice booms around the small dorm room, but not loud enough to be heard from the outside. Ignoring his call, she reaches into the bag, and as her fingers pull out the remote she spins around and –

"Time!"

Something slaps the remote out of her hand, and briefly, she experiences a burning sensation in her entire body -

Then the sensation passes, but she couldn't move. Every time she tries, a searing pain shoots throughout her body, as if it was hit in several places in the same time.  
She shouts out, but she couldn't move her mouth. Something is forcing her mouth shut, and painful burns sear her stomach and throat.

"Sorry!" shouts the boy. "But please understand –" he draws a sharp breath "that my hand is forced!"

_He can control time? No, that's not what this feels like… but I can't move! Every time I try to move –_

"NN!"

_ I can't even open my mouth? What the hell is this?_

"I'm… hhh… sorry," says the ashen boy again. "But I need your help, and I don't … hhh… think that you would listen… nnh"

_Because assaulting someone is really the best way to make them listen. Right._

"Please…"

_Is he... tired? I won't be trapped in this technique of his for much longer, and then –_

Wait. He knows who I am, or at least, what I can do. How does he know?

Whoever he is, he came prepared and ready. Treat him with caution, Misaki!

"I just have to … haaah… stop you attacking me for just… a second… just one more sec- "  
Something shifts. The heat disappears.

She can move again!

With the full force of her vengeance behind it, she takes the remote, fully intent on wrecking this insolent boy's brain –

But she couldn't. The boy already lies on the floor, unconscious and spasms in exhaustion.

Cautiously, she prods his broken body. He twitches, but nothing about him suggests that he could possibly move.

How curious. Someone half-dead and exhausted, coming to her… knowing full well who she is, and possessing a strange technique… well, contemplation won't give her answers. But reading minds, on the other hand...

She presses a button on her remote.

Something explodes in front of her face, and she is thrown back slightly. The sound of breaking glass can be heard, and she realizes, feebly, that the remote was forcefully thrown out of the window by an unknown force.

Looking at the boy again, she can see him still unconscious, but his hand is outstretched and his palm is open, before it lifelessly falls again. Even while unconscious, he continues to defend himself.

What a nuisance, she thought. And he needs my help? Why should I help him? A boy with stories, that's for sure...

Interesting but dangerous, her more practical side reprimands. Surely this boy would be detrimental to our health, and you know why you shouldn't ever get involved in the shenanigans of the Board of Directors!

_But his eyes…_

_I know those eyes well. It's someone being hunted, and knows they can't escape. I owe it to her, don't I… _

She closes the door silently. She couldn't do much about the hole in the window, but at least she could make an excuse about throwing the nearest object to her due to her game, which she have almost definitely lost. And she could probably brainwash one of those janitors to sweep up the ashes that this person left behind...

_ Why do I go so far? _

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_Just underneath the window_  
"Ack!"

Something clocks his head at terminal velocity, which thankfully wouldn't be fatal due to a) the thickness of his skull and b) the lightness of the object. It doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt, however.

Touma rubs his head woozily. That hurt. "Such misfortune…" he mutters. He looks around for whatever hit him, in case it tries to do so again, or to at least give it a good kick. Eyes wide in the darkness, he does a quick search, but he couldn't find whatever it was, so he gave up. If he delays any longer in delivering food to that nun, then he'll sleep with a bump and several bite marks.

He continues on his way home, hauling the heavy bag of groceries, and one remote.

* * *

And there we have it! Chapter one.

I sometimes feel like my writing style is deteriorating here. I need more practice bluh.

I need more reviews bluh but EVERYONE says that, so hey.

Anyways, leave a review if you enjoy it, and I'll see ya next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

Kinetic Chapter 2

Hi all!

I didn't expect to update this fast. But wow updating fast is tiring.

Anyways, here's another chapter of Kinetic. Don't expect me to come out with a witty quote for this one -

Oh okay fine I will, I'll do that later though, so that it gets bumped. /completelyshameless

Without further ado:

* * *

_Tokiwadai Dorm_

The door, already battered and, as far as its locking ability is concerned broken, starts to creak slightly in the windless hall and sag unnoticeably, trying to run away from the regal stare that the Queen is giving it. The stare is a drill – it doesn't matter if you are living or non-living or something else entirely, it finds your soul and regally, shamefully, disregards you. Few beings can resist it and sadly the door is not one of them, and will spend the rest of the night in agonizing discomfort, because it had let the Queen down.

The Queen herself, for the most part, does _not_ like being let down at all.

And it seems to her that the entire world is currently letting her down. Her door would better serve as firewood in its current state; her room is full of ashes, rags, dust, and things of ambiguous origins; no one is around for her to brainwash into helping her clear her room; and last but not least, _she lost her game_.

It's not a good evening, but if it's any consolation to her, there is no way it could get any worse. It's almost midnight, after all.

Slowly, she closes her eyes, and mentally peeks around the corners. Except for the trail of ashes and slightly burnt carpet, the dorm is empty, the students are somehow snoring despite all the noise, and in short, there is no one for her to mind-control. For the first time in some years, she would have to do… it makes her shudder to think of it…

_Manual labor_.

Oh joy.

First, she grabs her hairdryer, because if she's going to hush up all the evidence she might as well do it in a way that makes sure she does the least labor possible, a mindset that leads to some of the greatest inventions in the world, like the making of washing machines or cars. Flicking a switch on the side to "Silent", she began to blow away the soot trail permeating the hallway carpet. Thankfully, most of the soot has yet to sink into the velvet rug, and so she has a relatively easy, if somewhat back-breaking, time of blowing the soot into obscure corners, or better yet, into the dorms of the people she doesn't like.

_Big chests are big chests, but they sure are heavy when you bend down like this – _

She thought, as she bends down, hairdrying a particularly stubborn clump of dust and also conveniently revealing her lacy white panties to whoever happens to be looking her way.

Whoever who is looking her way, however, would either have to be extra-dimensional, or be the unfortunate young janitor working her first ever night shift, and just happens to have a little bit of a bisexual nature in her. This causes her to gasp lightly. Normally, people would never hear the gasp, but Misaki Shokuhou did not survive in Academy City for so long without developing ears that can catch noise from the jaws of silence.

The Queen didn't even look back. She didn't need to.

A few hours later, Misaki smiles at her new door and window, and her room, which is much, much cleaner than the norm. And the janitor finds herself in an ice-cream shop down the street, open 24/7 with a discount for midnight eaters, and also a wad of cash in her hands.

She's not _completely _heartless.

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_There's still one more thing I have to clean up_, she thought, staring at the prone figure lying on her clean floor.

It's like the young boy had a sort of self-defense mechanism that continues on whenever he sleeps. He responds to psychic probing and also hostile touches, and what's worse, he also responds to projectiles. It isn't a power, like Accelerator's, or at least what she have read of Accelerator, but more like a subconscious defense mechanism. It's like the martial artists in the movies that she secretly likes to watch. They can be unconscious but their muscles keep on moving. _And what's more troublesome, whatever power he uses acts alongside his body_, she thought.

She found this out the hard way.

She maneuvered the janitor the best she could throughout her room, but even then, straying too close to the figure catapults the janitor through the broken door and very nearly into the door beyond, potentially waking up its residents. After that, she did things more carefully. Gingerly did she throw a used pencil stub at his prone body, and she had the common sense to duck as the fragments ricochet towards the ceiling. A stick broke and splintered, cut in half by his hand, which then falls limp onto the floor again.

_Obviously,_ she muses,_ he has developed a need to be able to defend himself even while sleeping._

_Defend…_

_So how about if we do this more gently?_

She gently tiptoes towards the boy – no, wait, dumb idea.

She retraces her steps and took the fragmented stick. This time, she maneuvers it along the ground, creating a pattern of sorts, slowly, gently, until it makes contact with the boy's skin.

She barely had time to jump aside, as half to the stick is unceremoniously shunted towards her leg. She still could feel the wind of its passage as it breaks on the bookshelf behind her.

_Guess he won't be moved, then. _

She glances at the clock. Midnight, plus one minute.

_I'll just leave him for now. He won't harm me in my sleep, of that I'm fairly certain. Whoever he is, he sought me out for a reason. Even though I made sure no dorms listed my name, he still knows who I am, and what my powers are._

She sighs. Normally, she would just dump him outside, but she can't even move him, can she? And he'll just find her again…

_I'll have to find some sort of excuse not to go to school tomorrow. Any excuse should do, but I need time to interrogate my little prisoner._

She yawns.

Taking care to skirt around her new, if unwelcome, roommate, she climbs into the bed and turns off the lights. Although generally, she adds as an afterthought, most roommates are generally unwelcome, because they mess up your room and throw everything off their normal axis, which is what the boy just did.

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_Tokiwadai Library, the next day_

The library is chock-full of messages. Most of them contains the word "silence", "do not", and is accompanied by cartoonish depictions of a wagging finger and closed lips and in the case of one sign, a muzzle. The messages are all very stern and brook no disagreement.

Of course, this makes the messages ineffective.

Whoever sought the library for silence and solitude would do better to find a classroom and enter it instead. The library is always full of noise, contrary to its purpose. The flipping and turning of pages, murmur of students studying together or practicing their pronunciation, couples making out in some secret corner, and of course, the shout of librarians trying to tell people to be, ironically, quiet.

So goes the case for the two students contributing to the noise:

"I thought I would have loved thee forever, moor," sings the girl as she incorrectly quotes _Othello._

""I thought I would have loved thee forever, moor," sings the girl, annoying the burgeoning author next to her whom unwisely chose the library as a place to find peace and quiet," mutters the burgeoning author next to the girl whom unwisely chose the library as a place to find peace and quiet in order to properly write her fiction.

"Man, you must be nearly out of ideas," says the girl somewhat grumpily. "That is possibly the worst way to start a story."

"It's a good thing I won't use it to start a story, then," replies the other girl back coolly. "Besides, without the Queen here, I don't think I can get any head start on my previous few projects." She sighs dreamily, and you can almost see the mist spilling out of her eyes. "Aaah, the Queen – ouch."

"She's not yours alone, you know," says the other girl in a futile attempt to admonish her younger companion. "But now that you mention it…"

"Yeah, she usually comes here to annoy Misaka. Wonder where she went?"

"She never skips classes without a good reason."

One of the two girls leans into the other's ear conspiratorially, a move that is sure to draw the attention of any other people watching. Fortunately their table is located deep in the library, in between walls of books, and as such, most people would not have noticed.

Most.

"With her ability, can't she, y'know, just brainwash us into thinking that she's there or not there?" she whispers; or to be accurate, stage whispers.

The ear of one Shirai Kuroko suggestively perks up. Ears can't do that, but there is the suggestion of it.

A slap is heard.

"Owwww…."

"Don't talk badly about the Queen! Although… now that you mention it…"

"Oooow… eh?"

"Misaka isn't here either, is she? At this time of the week, they both usually squabble here…"

"You're right, maybe they squabble elsewhere?"

"I've heard another rumor that they're not squabbling, but they're actually… well… y'know…"

"Ah, so did I! You think they might be… erm…"

There are muffled whispers, and Kuroko's imagination went on overdrive.

_That._

_BITCH._

Of course she knows, deep, deep, deep inside, that there is little to no chance of her actually being together with her precious sister, but to go out with _her_, that's beyond bad taste. A stuck up manipulative bitch that can force you to eat her lies? Would _anyone_ go out with her? And then the horrifying conclusion presents itself. Because, because, hate is a kind of love, right? And what if their snippets in the library were actually them flirting; using hidden messages that no one else could conceivably interpret?

Another, more horrifying thought struck her. What if her beloved roommate were actually brainwashed to love her against her will? What if she is actually aware that she's being brainwashed, and uses the brainwashing to do all sorts of kinky things? What if she likes being humiliated, a bit of a slave complex, oh gods, maybe a slave and master relationship in the most literal sense…

It should be noted that at this point Shirai Kuroko has already cut all ties to reality and floats in her own palanquin of misguided justice, which ultimately points to a single destination, aptly named:

_KILL THAT BITCH._

In her mind's eye, she already calculates the steps that she needs to take, and the steps are simple.

Hideout in the bitch's apartment.

Interrogate her and break her up.

Use all necessary force, necessary judged by of course herself.

"Oooo….oooo…"

Behind the bookshelves, the two students shiver slightly.

"What was that?" one of them asks. As the one with the writer's mindset among the two, she has a very imaginative mind, which currently is re-reading all it knows about the ghostly wonders of Tokiwadai…

"Probably nothing or no one," said the calmer of them two, or at least, the one with more concern about her reputation.

"Oneeeesaamaaa…"

"Oh, it's just Kuroko," said the writer-girl. She peers around the bookshelves, trying to get a look at her friend. "Have you seen the Queen today? Or Railgun?"

But the bookshelves are empty.

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At this point in time, the vending machine has a Misaka's foot-shaped dent in it, because only she would kick the machine every single afternoon to obtain a drink.

But right now, it isn't afternoon. It's not morning, but it isn't noon, either, it's just one perfectly hot moment between noon and morning, and Misaka Mikoto is sweating like hell.

_I should be in the library exchanging snide comments with that bitch_, she thought. _What wouldn't I give to exchange snide comments in, and this is the most important part, an air conditioned room_.

But not today, (un)fortunately, because it seems that destiny had her on speed dial. And destiny being one of the biggest button spammers in the multiverse, she is naturally called by destiny, and it leads her right into the roadside café.

It's a nice café, quaint, simple, not bustling, but not deserted. A man is reading the newspaper on the front porch while inside, the babble of conversation can be heard.

Wait…

A single person, reading a newspaper, outside, in the café she was summoned to, on a sunny day like this?

The man puts down the newspaper, and the conversation from inside the café dies. A button went _click_.

"Railgun," said the man evenly. He dresses in, as most men from the government do, a tux, in the misguided belief that it makes them look classy. Misaka could tell that this man is a simple government flunky that happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, chosen for all the wrong reasons, and is now trying to convince himself to be able to intimidate what looks to him like a little girl. He doesn't even have the right face for intimidation - he's too youthful by half. And his sitting position is disgraceful. You're not going to fool anyone sitting like an englishman drinking tea, because you're sweating far too much to give any impression of dignity at all.

She took pity on him, however, and plays along.

"Yes?"

"I see you've received our phone call. Come. The administration board has much to talk about with you."

He gestures towards the café door, which suddenly looks a lot less familial. Inside, the shadows wink. Oh well. So much for playing along.

"And if I don't?"

The man gulps.

"Well, then…"

"Misaka? Ah, you're also called?"

She turns. And that would be...

Black spiky hair. Black trench jacket, and a misfortunate, puppy-dog expression that draws practically any woman with an ounce of compassion in. There's only one person with that face.

"Good for our couple to arrive so early, then," a voice behind her calmly speaks.

She turns.

Behind her, another man stands in front of the now-swinging café door. He has blonde, spiky hair, sunglasses, and a green tropical shirt in an area so far away from the tropics. And a shiny grin. A shiny, hell-may-care grin that tells her one thing: the time to play games is over now, and the real reason that she is called all the way here will now be explained to her, and she is to accept whatever consequence happens next, or all of their heads would be hanging on a proverbial stick, although this stick is more likely to be a jar full of life-sustaining liquids.

All that out of one grin. But then again, he had a lot of practice with communication.

"Well, are you two going to stand outside all day in this heat, or are you coming in? And you," said the man, pointing at the poor excuse of a young man in the melting tuxedo, "get in, too. You're not fooling anyone with that."

Without another word, Tsuchimikado swivels on his foot and walks back into the darkness, the café door swinging emptily behind him.

Touma and Misaka glances at each other. "So..."

"After you, I guess?"

They both stepped after him.

* * *

WHEW.

CHAPTER 2 DONE.

I AM SO.

SO.

VERY.

TIRED.

Anyways, leave a review if you enjoyed, or a like, and I'll see you next chapter. Byyyeee~

Next chapter: There will be an interrogation, and we'll find out who is our young boy actually is. And also a fight scene.


	3. Chapter 3

Kinetic Chap 3

First of all?

Deepest apologies. I had this chapter done a while back but I had to think and re-re-review several times to make sure that the logic is sound. In addition, tests and homeworks has been harassing me.

Has anyone here been doing their friend's share of groupwork for them ?

If anyone here thinks the logic is unsound PLEASE tell me. And by logic I meant how the characters act to each other, and especially, especially Misaki.I couldn't find any part of the VN online so I had to characterize her based on her power, i.e how her powers and part of the backstory I read on the wikia would probably influence someone. I place a very strong correlation between a person's talents or ability to their personality, especially if they grow up with it, which they did in the case of Misaki. I'm guessing that she's a dead logical person hidden behind the guise of the Queen which I've glimpse in the Railgun S Anime.

The next project after this for me isn't chapter 4 but retouching chapter 1 because it's atrociously written compared to this one. And the first chapter matters the most.

What. I like my reviews mkay.

Now, where's that quote...

Okay I forgot to look up one, will re-upload. Ciao!

* * *

The first statement that needs to be stated is that she most definitely isn't lost.

The second statement that needs to be stated is that anyone whom needs to add most definitely in most sentences is most definitely lying.

The third statement is that this message is looping repeatedly through Kongou's head, a broken doomed radio about as doomed as her sense of direction. Somehow she managed, in the world's most technologically advanced city, the vanguard of the science front, to be without a phone, without a map, or PDA, and unable to find anything that could help her find her bearings back. Correction: she did have a map, but she couldn't really read it, and in any case the location of the store is in a part of the city that she never was familiar to begin with.

This is not her fault, at least not completely. There are certain parts of Academy City that can be considered as a sort of outskirts, where the electric hand of science has not yet reached or refuse to grasp and claim as theirs, due to various reasons.

One of these reasons rears its ugly bald head and eight separate chest muscles, staring down at the curiously unafraid but still very much lost little girl.

It thought for several minutes, and then after that, managed to piece together the words from the various corners of its brain : "Get lost, girl. I ain't gonna say this twice."

"But, I'm already lost. Can you please tell me the directions to…" Kongou's eyebrows meets together in a slight V, creasing her normally smooth forehead, and smiles as she remembers. "I think it was Kou-Rin-Dou?"

The muscled man takes a step back. He isn't used to people talking back, smiling back, or indeed, doing anything but run whimpering for their grandmothers and leaving a conspicuous trail of yellowish droplets as they turn the corner. Kongou, on the other hand, is waiting patiently for the man to show her the directions or at the very least take her to someone whom DOES know where the elusive shop is.

It is the classic battle of the idiots as the two stare down each other in mutual befuddlement.

"I ain't gonna say this twice, girl, and don't play smart with me!" shouts the more muscled of the similarly-minded duo.

"You've said 'this' twice already, though," points out the blissfully oblivious Kongou, whom is getting more annoyed by the second. There are limits to outside courtesy. She's showing courtesy, why isn't he doing the same to her? Why can't he help her or try to? Okay sure, he might not know how great she is, how she's a decorated hero whom defeated some sort of army of Skill-Outs for the sake of her friend, but shouldn't he show basic manners?

If everyone had manners, she thought, then the world would be ever so much more peaceful.

On the other end of the thought spectrum the mobile mountain cracks its fists and roars. "You've asked for this, little girl!"

The mountain man points his two feet, strangely small for his size, downwards, and jumps from one leg to the other, swaying back and forth like a boxer. His arms describe circular motions in the air, like pedaling, only with hands and fists bunching together. Altogether he looked as if a bodybuilder whom never decides to train his legs began to take up boxing, which actually isn't that much far from the truth.

Nevertheless not even Kongou can mistake the intent of the man, whom is now bobbing back and forth slightly and advancing slowly towards her.

"Oh," she says. "A robbery, or something similar."

The man starts to smirk. "Girl, you must be DUMB or what not to realize dat, huh! You in District Seven now, hah!" He accentuates the last one by jabbing at the air with a rock-like fist that still whistles to the air through sheer speed.

"Right," says the crestfallen Kongou. She was hoping that he would actually turn out to be someone nice, but attempting to rob _her_ of all people…

"Look, you obviously don't know who I am," says Kongou, slightly annoyed this time. "Do you know what I can do to you?"

"I know a bluff when I see one, girl! But go on, show me what you can do! Ain't nobuddy evah defeated may!" grunts the man back.

…

At the very least, proper manners should be followed, right? says Kongou's confused, annoyed, but ultimately kind little brain.

"Help! Help!" she screams.

"Too bad, girlie, ain't nobuddy gunna help you now!" shouts the mountain man back. He tosses back his fists, thumps his chest once, and then charges.

His opponent merely sighs. "That wasn't for me."

The man pauses mid-charge. "Whut?"

Witnesses* would say that there was a sudden gust of extremely strong wind that slams the highly oversized mass of muscles into a nearby wall, cracking it. Witnesses would say that the girl would stroll casually towards the downed man and puts her palm on his chest, and strolls out calmly. And then witnesses would say that around five seconds later a miniature explosion of air slams the man into the wall again, creating a crater and causing some bricks to bury him in a small avalanche.

"Well, he did ask," says Kongou as she walks out of that alleyway. "Now, where did I want to go again?"

She sighs.

She then starts to walk out of the alleyways and into the City again.

*Everything has a witness, or else it wouldn't exist, which is what most people in Academy City said. By logic, then these murders also never existed, or so they say.

She didn't need to go very far before she lost her way again, although that would imply that she would know where she was going in the first place.

The good news for her, however, is that she manages to somehow bump into one Shirai Kuroko out of her hiding place. This also constitutes as bad news, because when two hard-headed girls bump into each other both literally and metaphysically, trouble is bound to arrive in more than just a lump on the head.

One of them – she is furious.

"You don't simply bump into me while I'm spying on someone, you asshole!" shouts one girl.

"Well, I'm SORRY for just wanting to ask for directions!" shouts back the other.

"_I'm hiding in the bushes! Do I look like I have the TIME for DIRECTIONS?"_ hisses one back.

"How am I supposed to know that?!" replies the other in exasperation.

Kuroko relented slightly. This is, after all, Kongou.

"You should after all respect your betters, Kuroko," continues the blissful Kongou walking blindfolded into a minefield, which promptly explodes.

Kuroko blew up. "BETTERS? BETTERS? I REFUSE TO –"

The shouts can be heard all over the block, and across the street, and the sound seeps into the blocks and through the windows, and it woke up one extremely tired young boy in the apartment opposite. It also caught the attention of a blonde Queen sitting in a pose of relaxed alertness.

Waking up involuntarily is perhaps the third worst experience in the world, next to receiving a sudden brown letter from your tax collector and being in the company of lawyers. Like the other two, it made sure that whoever the victim is he or she would be in a murderous rage mixed with hazy disbelief or grogginess during and after the ordeal. Anyone is subject to this. Kings. Queens. Presidents, authors, and in a twist of fate, also lawyers and tax collectors.

The boy however didn't get angry. He simply stares at the world through red-rimmed eyes in quiet expectation, although his expression suggests less expectation and more grumpiness in general. To summarize: his face looks absolutely terrible – grey and frazzled, and although he has no mustache or beard he might as well have one, because the one word to describe him right now would be unkempt.

What he can see is this: a room, decked out in warm, comforting pink, messy with papers and miscellaneous objects strewn about on top of tables, chairs, and pencils all over the floor, each brown stick pointing at each other or something else. A chair, positioned opposite him, and a blonde girl – no, is it a lady? His male gaze suggests that the person sitting opposite him is more decked out to be a lady, but he could be mistaken.

What he does know is that he couldn't see a bloody thing, the sun is too bloody bright, and something is buzzing in his ears, and that the insides his head is stuffed in cotton wool soaked in alcohol wrapped in chloroform and covered with honey and lather.

The lady across him doesn't seem to mind, or care about the state of his mind or body, because the morbidly curious girl began to ask questions rapidly.

"Alright, boy, you've had your rest. Your long rest, I might add," she said, glancing quickly at the clock.

The boy boggles vacantly at her.

"Who are you and what is the purpose of your coming here?" she asks calmly.

"Hng."

"You have no papers, no identification, the Academy City database has nothing on you, and yet you penetrate us so easily," she continues.

"Hng."

"And it appears that you are incapable of talking, except in grunts, which frankly is a stark contrast from yesterday's more eloquent speech."

"Hnnnnng." The boy is on the verge of collapsing, and it shows in his eyes. It says: Why are you doing this to me? Have you no heart? Must I kill someone? All I want is more sleep.

"No, I won't allow you to sleep," speaks the girl again. "You've slept for far too long, and it's time for you to come clean."

This girl, though the boy, is alive only because humanitarian senses still predominates a part of my thoughts, and the size of these senses are inversely proportional to the amount of her speech. That, and when I do kill her I'll have to deal with sleeping in blood.

"You do owe me you know. For giving you lodgings. And breaking apart my window, door, and various other furniture," she says, as she stares at the various wooden splinters still littering the floor. "And you can start by telling me who the hell you are and what do you want with me."

"Hnnnmmfuuuup."

"I'm sorry?"

"SHMUUUT HUUUP."

The conversation has begun from nowhere and is clearly heading even deeper into nowhere, so Misaki sighs and picks up her glass of water.

She takes a sip while registering the sleepy state of her half-prisoner half-captor. Given the uncertainty of power in the room she prefers to be on the safe side and assume nothing.

As the boy's body begins to inevitably drop, which would happen to anyone whom got waken up forcibly, she hurls the glass at him, water and all.

The glass collides with his hand that suddenly became outstretched from its inert position but a few seconds ago. It didn't shatter. It didn't fall. What did fall was the water from inside, propelled by force of momentum, onto the young boy's face.

"BLUH." The water is warm, almost piping hot, because it wasn't water – it was tea, earl grey, the butter in the Queen's arsenal of breakfast bouquet and implements. But today, she didn't mind throwing it away – due to the boy's arrival she had to make her own, because anyone whom enters her room would know of the boy and she couldn't brainwash _everyone_. Okay, she could, but that would be even more troublesome.

The poor, poor young boy shook his head, having been brutally woken up by way of hot water, and Misaki felt the slightest tinge of sympathy, because no one, not even the world's worst villains, deserve to be woken like that.

Just a really tiny tinge, like an itch you couldn't feel but know that it should be there.

"Mmmmmrgh." The boy shakes his head wetly and slowly, heady with the warm wakeness that threatens to plunge him back to his sleep again. The glass which was previously sticking to his hand, falls and shatters on the ground, some of the shards piercing the wooden splinters already on the ground, sticking up, refracting the light streaming through the window.

"More awake now, are we?" speaks a bemused Queen.

"Okay, okay, you got me," said the boy, wiping his face with his tattered sleeve. Eyes puffy, he stares at the annoying lady that just woke him up, and drowsily wonders why he isn't choking her yet.

"Thinking of choking me? Sorry, I don't do that kind of thing. I like things nice and sweet~ so be nice and you might get a reward," she winks at him.

Far from being surprised, boy simply stares at the girl in slightly angry silence. Misaki begins to wonder how much he knows about the city – because unless he's too sleepy to register that she just read the contents of his mind, which increasingly becomes a likely chance, then he knows about her most basic ability of reading minds without having to actually touch her remote continuously.

It's something that she uses far, far before she can control people's mind, and in some aspects it's far more useful than that – nobody knows she can, nobody prepares for it, so it's far easier - and far more rewarding – to manipulate someone without being suspected of manipulation at all by others. It's a subtle art that has been benefiting far more than brainwashing anyone. The fact that she is a psychic is commonly known throughout Academy City so anyone whom is friends with her is accustomed to her reading their next sentence in their brain, which accounts for the slightly awkward silence in their conversation. Even if a person isn't her acquaintance, then he or she would still suspect that she is reading their thoughts because, well, psychics. Who can trust 'em?

Except that the man before her isn't from Academy City. She checked him the best she could, and found no evidence of any electronic material anywhere near his body, which is already transgression number one of the common rule of Academy City – don't go anywhere without something that can identify you electronically.

So a foreigner to the city would have to time to ask around, which this man obviously doesn't, because otherwise, he wouldn't dress like this. Not like a rambling hobo with torn holes around the sleeves, although she grudgingly gives him points for having a very nice jacket, albeit a scorched one.

And yet…

"Ken uh gbf beck to slip new," says the boy, still drowsy.

"If you do, I'll call the authorities on you."

"Wuld dun it lez nite."

"What makes you think I wouldn't do it now?"

The boy blinks once.

"Well then. Now that you're starting to take things more logically, I think that we can start talking properly," he says in a single breath. All traces of drowsiness that was firmly entrenched in the boy is gone.

Surprise, which is something that is rarely felt but still rather unexpected for a psychic like her, made itself known through her brain. Luckily enough, her face never once flickers, because at a very young age she's already used to surprises and had years of practice to keep her face calm and composed.

But her eyes may twinkle however they want, and they still can't hide the slight twitch that alerts both of them that she let her guard slip.

"I'm impressed. I couldn't even read your mind."

"I came prepared," yawns the boy, stretching like a person recently awoken. "Don't get me wrong, I'm still cranky and rather sleepy, so don't you ever dare try to do something to me."

"Like I said, would've killed me last night."

"Still can cause you plenty of pain."

"I don't think you would, somehow."

The boy stops for a moment, and then stares at her. "You know, I think you're right. I probably won't."

He yawns a little bit more, and then he stops, stretching and rolling on the bed. "Alright," he says, "I think I'll answer some of your questions now. What'cha gonna ask?"

"Your name, for starters." She answers quickly.

The boy didn't even stop as he leaps out of the bed. "Sparkles."

"Real name."

"Sparkles."

"Given birth name."

"Spar-kles. Do you need a pronunciation guide or are you able to find your ways in the abyssal depths of the English language? And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to deal with the person that is listening intently to our conversation. Don't you people pride yourself on security?"

"Oh, I know about them," said Misaki nonchalantly, waving a gloved hand in dismissal. "They wouldn't have posed a threat until you pointed it out, and – oh – they're running away."

"Eh? Why wouldn't they pose a threat?" asks Sparkles.

"Because one is an idiot and the other thinks that I'm chatting with someone online, and I don't need to read minds to know _that_ much. They're quite distinctive in my school. They really are getting away, you know. And now rumors will spread all over the school that I'm with some guy, although it helps that your name is a name that even I, quite frankly, wouldn't believe a parent would give to a child."

"My parents could've hated me. You never know."

"They do?"

"Nah. Now allow me to catch dmph."

He was about to step out of the door when he walks into a wall of bust.

"Not so fast. How do I know I can trust you being loose in this city? For all I know, you could be some murderous bastard planning to burn this city to the ground."

"Would've done it last night," he mumbles, still buried in a chest full of bust.

There is a sharp motion with Misaki's leg, which would have resulted in the Sparkles generation being unable to give birth to another generation of children with sadly terrible names, but he caught her upward motion without even looking, before pushing down her leg gently.

"You pervert! Out!"

He momentarily disengages. "It's nice and warm in here, and I'm not gonna move unless it's towards a way out, and it just so happens to be that your bust is right between my destination, so either you move or I don't." He re-entrenches himself again. "Did I mention it's warm in here?"

"Why you – "

She swings her arms towards him in a pincer motion, trying to catch him.

But her arms caught thin air.

"Well, I'm honored that you'd try to hug me, especially the Queen being the Queen and all, but I do prefer it if my entrance to the city isn't known, no matter how silly the rumors spread by two alleged idiots would be," the boy comments, suddenly leaning against the far wall, slouching against it as if nothing in the world matters anymore.

"I'll return, you can bet on it. But for now…."

"Don't you dare go out before answering my questions. I am the Queen of Tokiwadai herself, who do you think you're dealing with?"

_Ah. She's becoming angry._

"Two idiots. My fight ain't with you."

She took a single step towards him in the manner of a person about to continue to step two, but step two never came on the account of the room being filled with what feels like a small gale. The air pressure _shifts_, worthy of italics, and then the door blows open.

Blows open is about correct. The door is wrenched off its hinges, and a man-shaped hole dominates the woodworks now.

She fell to the ground, and then registers the fact that Sparkles, if that's really his name, is gone for now.

After venting for a while and then brainwashing another repairman to replace her door – again – she found a note in the debris of her room.

It reads, in very messy handwriting –

"_Sorry about the door. Here's some money to pay it back. Will be back, because I'm sure I paid more than what doors are worth these days, which is jack shit considering they can't stop me. To be fair, little can._

_Sparkles._

_PS: Here's a photo of your aunt and uncle. They sent me here. Y'know. Those two researchers at B-"_

The rest of the paper is slightly torn off, but she didn't have to have the rest of the paper to read Baggage City.


End file.
